


The Aftermath

by blackgirlyoga



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alternate Universe – Canon Divergence, BAMF James T. Kirk, BAMF Leonard "Bones" McCoy, BAMF Nyota Uhura, BAMF Spock (Star Trek), Family Fluff, Found Families, Frustrated Leonard McCoy, Out of Character James T. Kirk, Space Husbands
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:34:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23816974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackgirlyoga/pseuds/blackgirlyoga
Summary: In the aftermath of the destruction of the planet Vulcan, we begin to understand what stands between what was and what will be.James Tiberius Kirk.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Comments: 21
Kudos: 107





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the first post on this blog before commenting on this work.
> 
> https://blackgirlyoga.tumblr.com/
> 
> Would really like to avoid any and all accusations of stealing.
> 
> Thank you!

" _I grieve with thee,_ " He spoke the phrase in subdued Vulcan from his position in the turbolift. His Vulcan was a little bit rusty, but he didn’t think it would matter at this point. “I’m sorry about those things that I said about you and about your mother. It was… uncalled for. I’m sure you loved his in your own way.”

He’d meant to speak to his first officer earlier, but the mild snowstorm of a mission had somehow blown itself completely out of proportion, and now they were left to deal with the aftermath of the ensuing avalanche.

Vulcan was gone. Earth had succumbed to a few hundred casualties in the aftermath of the drill’s descent to the planet.

_Everything had gone to hell._

“You do not have to apologize Captain. It is my understanding that you acted with the best interest of not just the ship, but the Earth in mind. I cannot fault you for such logical behaviour.”

He let a sigh slip forth, always uncomfortable whenever Spock tried to subdue his more human characteristics with words bolstered by logic. He hadn’t known him for very long, but he had been given many opportunities to observe him between their first interaction at the Kobiyashi Maru hearing and now.

“Spock. You do remember that you are half human right? You’re allowed to grieve like the rest of us. Pretending that you’re okay isn’t logical.”

He’d never seen him express much besides anger – at him; and frustration – also at him, again. Who would have thought? But right now, he would describe the expression on his face as lost.

“I have sought to meditate in my quarters but the resulting follow-up missions and paperwork to be completed has left me little choice in the amount of time allotted to the task. Perhaps now that we will be docking soon I will be able to take the opportun –.” He put his hand up to stop him from finishing what he could now only describe as logic induced rambling.

“Go and meditate Mr. Spock. That’s an order. Any paperwork that needs to be completed will be taken care of by either myself or Mr. Sulu.”

He looked like he might attempt to argue, but a raised eyebrow, not unlike the one that he typically resorted to whenever he was confronted with a particularly obtuse academy student, stopped him.

“Please Mr. Spock. If not for you, then rest for me. It will do wonders for my peace of mind.”

Before Spock could begin to break down the literal meaning of his statement, attempting to be logical, the doors to the turbolift opened. He took this as a sign and stepped out into the hallway, offering a lazy salute over his shoulder to his first officer, before sauntering down the hallway to Engineering.

* * *

James had always enjoyed being in Engineering. Making the decision to focus on Command Track, with an emphasis on engineering, versus Flight Control like Mr. Sulu, or Advanced Navigation like Mr. Chekov, had been a godsend. Right now he was planning to put that engineering knowledge to good use. Distracting himself with Lieutenant Scott would prevent him from having to face all of his responsibilities as an Acting Captain. There were still evacuated Vulcans to locate, the ship’s engine had been blown out almost completely through their successful attempt to evade the singularity, and whenever the opportunity provided itself, they would need to dock and face the aftermath of Nero’s attack on Earth.

He hadn’t been ready for this. He’d never felt more like a screw-up than in those final moments when Vulcan was sucked into oblivion. Living up to George Kirk had always been a challenge, but he could already hear the questions; scathing, condescending, judgmental; as if he hadn’t done enough.

_What do you think your father would have done if he had been the Captain of the USS Enterprise?_

**_He wouldn’t have done anything because he’s dead._ **

_How do you feel about the number of persons you managed to save compared to your father’s 800 aboard the Kelvin?_

**_I don’t know, he’s dead._ **

_You managed to beam quite a few Vulcan’s who had been working on the surface of T’Khul onto the enterprise. Do you think your father would have been able to accomplish the same goal?_

**_I really couldn’t say. He’s very dead._ **

_Your father had quite a few years of experience under his belt before becoming Captain. Do you think more experience before your Captaincy would have produced a more favourable argument during your rescue mission?_

**_I don’t know, his experience still led to his death._ **

His father had been dead for 22 years and his sacrifices, his experiences, his choices – everything, were still haunted by George Kirk’s infamous, overwhelming shadow.

“James!”

His eyes snapped upward at Mister Scott, and he shook himself out of the memories that he sometimes couldn’t contain.

“Mr. Scott! How are we looking down here? Do you need any assistance, any supplies?” He hadn’t known Mr. Scott for very long, but he had been an asset on Delta Vega and had steadily continued to provide support through his talents ever since. Without him in engineering, they maybe wouldn’t have made it to Earth in one piece.

“Well, Jim, right now the only thing we can do is allow the ship to do the best work she can without the Warp Core. We should be able to dock in a couple hours. The lass is pretty beat up, but she’s still holding strong. Although we could reroute the power from non-essential ship wide functions to reduce the refractory period. Possibly things like the regulators or –,”

“NO! That –,” He took a breath, his fingernails digging arch-like shapes into the center of his already tender palm. The last thing he needed was to have a ship with a limited supply of food. They were already over capacity by at least four hundred people – beamed aboard from T’Khul. No need to throw another wrench into already faulty gears.

He repeated himself, much calmer this time, “No, Mister Scott. The crew can take the extra time to settle. Vulcan or not, watching an entire planet collapse on itself is a trying experience.” He didn’t want him to think his panic was directed at him.

He nodded hesitantly, eyebrows still drawn to the center of his forehead. He was confused and Jim couldn’t blame him. Anybody who wasn’t directly privy to the information regarding his childhood usually found his reactions to food either puzzling or completely revolting. There was no in-between.

He touched his shoulder, some odd manner of offering comfort to them both, before turning and walking out of engineering as silently as he had arrived.

* * *

The lethargy was finally catching up with him. He was tired, his body ached and his head felt as if it was going to explode. He’d considered checking into his quarters and working on the paperwork from his bed, but then his bullheadedness caught up to him and he remembered that he didn’t have any quarters. Technically he was still a stowaway. He allowed his body to slump against the wall by the Observation Lounge.

Checking into medbay would give him the opportunity to rest, but then Bones would make it his point of duty to hypospray him to death, ironically.

“Captain?”

He hadn’t heard Spock’s approach at all, and frankly his body was past the point where he’d react with surprise. “They should really put a bell on you. You’re like a cat.” He paused. “Didn’t I tell you to go to sleep or meditate or whatever it is you need to do to work through your emotions?”

It’s a testament to his self-control that he doesn’t flinch away from his first officer when he falls into a squat beside him. “It appears that I am not the one in need of rest at the moment Captain. I find it highly illogical that you made the decision to rest against a wall, instead of in your quarters.”

He opened one eye and took in his position on the floor. The corridor was now dimly lit. Apparently he had been leaning for a while.

“Well I know you’ve been otherwise distracted, but I’m still a stowaway. I wasn’t registered on the ship as either crew or passenger, so I really don’t have any quarters.” He’d thought about taking Pike’s quarters, but the thought made him feel uncomfortably ill.

Spock looked like he was going to suggest the same thing, but thought better of it. Maybe he could read something in his gaze, or just thought better of emphasizing his misgivings, but he remained quiet.

For a moment at least.

“Have you thought about asking to share accommodations with anyone else aboard the ship?”

He nodded. “Yes, I thought about it for a split second, before disregarding the thought. I don’t like to be an inconvenience.” He swiped a hand over his face, sighing softly at Spock’s follow-up suggestion.

“I would be amenable to allowing you to share my quarters until we officially dock.”

He shook his head, moving carefully so that he could prop himself up off the floor.

“I don’t need another reason to feel like I owe you Mr. Spock.”

Blue eyes darted down to the decking below their feet, then back up at the solemn gaze of his First Officer.

“As you are acting Captain until Captain Pike recovers from his injuries, you require rest. It would be logical to allow you access to my quarters as I currently have little need for most of the facilities.”

_He was being sincere. Well, as sincere as a half-Vulcan, half-human could appear to be anyways._

“Arguing with you won’t result in me winning this battle will it?”

He liked to think he didn’t imagine the small upturning of the corners of Spock’s mouth.

“I am happy that you have finally acquiesced to the only logical suggestion available Captain. Do you require my assistance?”

_And that’s where he drew the line._

“I think I can manage just fine on my own. Thank you Mr. Spock.” He received a solemn nod in response, allowing his first officer to lead him back to the Crew’s Quarters.

* * *

One shower and a fresh pair of lounge pants later, found Jim sprawled out inside Spock’s sleeping quarters. He had a bowl of noodles nestled in the crook of his left arm, a bottle of water tucked under the other, and a PADD pressed up underneath his chin.

Spock had stayed behind for a few moments just to make sure he was settled, before leaving to a meeting with the remaining Vulcans that they’d managed to beam out directly unto the USS Enterprise. There were so many things that needed to be discussed with regard to the newly destroyed planet and the newly endangered race of humanoid creatures.

Apparently, before beaming down to the planet, Spock had instructed Uhura to deliver a planet wide evacuation order and a few thousand Vulcans had managed to escape from the imploding planet. The issue at hand now was that those evacuated Vulcans were basically stranded in deep space, with very little opportunities to return to the nearest starbase, and quite possibly, very few resources.

He shovelled another forkful of noodles into his mouth with one hand, tapping away at his PADD to see how quickly he could finish with the room assignments. There were still a few Vulcans in healing trances down in medbay based on Bones’ report, and he needed to ensure that he divvied up the remaining rooms fairly to ensure maximum stability for the broken species.

So many bonds, broken, because of the loss of loved ones. A race of creatures who appear to be cold and unfeeling, completely ripped apart by the emotions that they normally manage to keep at bay. He couldn’t imagine how the sudden upheaval must have felt.

_Spock…_

Thinking about him must have been like turning on a homing beacon because almost immediately, the room door slipped open and the Commander stepped inside.

He suddenly found himself at a loss for words. He was still reeling from the events that took place over the better part of the last few days and most of the conflicted feelings surrounding Spock.

The contrast between Commander Spock of Starfleet versus S'chn T'gai Spock, a half-human/half-Vulcan hybrid who’d just lost his mother, was jarring.

“Spock…” He hesitated when he felt the actual strength of his brown gaze directed at him.

“I did not think you would be awake Captain. Have you already received adequate rest?”

“I didn’t really rest. I took a shower and…” He gestured at the empty bowl that was resting on the table beside his position on the carpet in the lounge.

He’d never felt more like he deserved to be reprimanded than in this moment here, interacting with a Spock that still maintained a level of frightening neutrality in response to a tragedy.

“Spock, I…” He cleared his throat before continuing. He could feel the eyes on him and he knew he had his full attention.

“I just wanted to apologize for all of the things that I said earlier. I know I already apologized in the turbolift, but it’s still been weighing heavily on my conscience, and I made a lot of assumptions about you that are probably not at all true and it’s been weighing on my mind ever since.” He raised a hand to his throat almost subconsciously, his thoughts flickering back to those tense moments on the bridge.

Spock seemed to tense at the subconscious action, glancing away, something that Jim would describe as a moment of uncertainty, before responding.

“I believe that we have already covered your apology, Captain. What we have not explored is the apology that I owe you.” Jim’s eyebrows furrowed and he opened his mouth to refute before being completely rebuffed by his first officer.

“Captain, it is my understanding that my actions on the bridge were highly inappropriate. Disregarding the fact that my planet had just been destroyed and I had recently lost my mother, what I did was still physical assault, and I would not fault you if you decided to report my actions to the Admiralty.”

He can feel that the confusion is still laid out as clear as day in his expression.

“Look, I know we’re not really friends. I hardly know anything about you. But there are certain things that I’ve learned to overlook.”

Spock made a vaguely frustrated sound from his position against the counter, obviously gearing up to rebut his stance. He spoke before Spock did, his voice tired, but firm.

“Look, Spock… you’d just lost your home. You had to watch your mother fall to her death. Your entire race is now literally endangered. I would never think about adding fuel to that kind of fire by reporting you for assault when I was the one who _goaded_ you into attacking me.”

Jim set his PADD down on the carpet, using one hand to lever himself up off the floor. It was a testament to how tired he was that they entire motion took him the better part of a minute.

“You didn’t need to ask for it at all, but you’re forgiven. Absolutely forgiven.” He needed to ensure that Spock understood that he was holding _nothing_ against him.

* * *

Spock didn’t often assess people on more than a superficial level with regard to their intelligence or interactions with other people. This was a characteristic that stemmed from the teachings of Surak, which essentially emphasized intelligence and logic over emotional upheaval and attachments. The only person he had allowed interactions with past this level had been Uhura, a relationship that other Vulcans would have considered a weakness.

Interacting with James Kirk was prompting deeper assessment. This was especially accurate because they were a little short on Vulcans to be judgemental about unnecessary attachments ( _and over 4 billion people were dead and he was not equipped to deal with that manner of thinking at this point in time_ ). He was often caught off guard by the intelligence lurking behind those blue eyes. In their few interactions thus far, often those eyes were alight with bravado, confidence and defiance.

Now, he was confronted with a gaze filled with compassion and understanding, a direct contrast to the previous experiences and a disparity when compared to the situations recounted by Lieutenant Uhura.

“You are not at all what I expected after interacting with you at your hearing.”

James shrugged at the statement, seemingly unconcerned.

“Yeah well, sometimes we live our lives one façade after another. It’s something that I’ve always had to do. Most people don’t know a realistic fact about me besides, he’s George Kirk’s son or, he’s the Kelvin baby.” His statement was punctuated by a furrowed brow and a shuddering breath.

Spock was tempted to continue to the conversation, to ascertain more about the enigma masquerading as James T. Kirk, but their current priorities had shifted with that one breath.

“Captain, your response to prolonged conversation is consistent with signs of extreme fatigue. You should rest.”

He had expected resistance in the form of an argument or some form of a distraction. He received the opposite.

“Yes, you may be right about that Mr. Spock.” He shuffled over to the couch, relaxing into the cushions once he’d managed to find a comfortable position. Once again, a contrast to the direct characterization that he had begun constructing with regard to Jim.

Spock didn’t attempt to persuade him to use the bed. Their interactions, though few and far between, had exposed Kirk’s reluctance to put his own needs at the forefront of his mind. He would find some excuse to be relegated to the couch, because him taking the bed would overshadow Spock’s own needs, regardless of his own opinion on the matter.

These observations and the subsequent discussions of these observations would have to wait. With that thought, he descended to the floor in an attempt to meditate.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Memories begin to unravel.

That night, rest was a long time coming for James Tiberius Kirk. It turns out that Leonard McCoy was always right, and repression wasn’t an effective mechanism for coping with previous traumatic experiences. Watching a planet implode, almost falling to his death after jumping from a drill, living through the destruction of an entire world, helpless to do a thing to minimize causalities or prevent the experience at all, was apparently the window of opportunity that his survivor’s guilt regarding Tarsus IV needed to make a sudden reappearance.

Tarsus IV had been a testament to the Federation’s ability to prioritize their duties and responsibilities in the worst possible ways. So many voyages to explore new civilizations, establishing ties and peaceful partnerships with every alien race that they stumbled across, but not enough demonstrative action to show the value of being inducted into the Federation in the first place. Besides the death of his father and his mother’s indirect abandonment, Tarsus IV had been one of the reasons that Jim hadn’t really considered Starfleet as one of his career aspirations when he was younger. Joining the organization that had only arrived to save nine eyewitnesses to a very unnecessary tragedy was not an appealing prospect when he was still a child. Tarsus had been an avoidable nightmare, and occasionally, Jim felt his misgivings regarding the experience simmering closer to the surface, something that he was wholly uncomfortable with.

Interactions like the one that he had the previous day with Scotty about the replicators were completely absent when he was in control. No one thought much of his eating habits, simply discounting him as greedy, and they attributed his sleeping habits to the day to day operations as the Captain of a Flagship.

However, when he lost his ability to maintain control… guilt would wrack his body with shudders, and nightmares would plague his mind. At this point in time, operating on very little sleep was almost second nature to Jim. He’d pulled all-nighters, taken on new missions and still had the wherewithal to report to the Admiralty looking as poised and as polished as always while seated at the conn.

But this time, everything just felt _wrong_. Losing an Earth colony of 8000 people was awful. Losing an entire planet, with a population of 4,000,000 people, embodied feelings of utter devastation and despair.

He let out a small huff of breath, tucking the covers back over his head, fruitlessly trying to banish the heavy thoughts.

Sleep wasn’t going to be coming anytime soon.

* * *

Spock observed his unsettled acting Captain, who had only managed a scant two hours of rest in the six hours that he had spent on Spock’s sofa. That was only 25 percent of the rest required for a human to function optimally. Spock had already finished his meditation, completing the requisite hours that were necessary for his continued function. Now all he was left with were his own thoughts.

His control was still flawed, his bonds jagged and frayed at the ends where they had been ripped away by the death of his many clan members. The one he shared with the matriarch of his family, T’Pau, was thrumming with continued strength, consistent as always. The one with his father was the least damaged when compared to T’Pau, dull as a result of inconsistent communication and misuse, having nothing to with their recent experiences. The space beside his father was empty, lacking the distinctly human characteristics that his mother once represented. There was a time when he rejected these human attributes in an effort to seek integration amongst his peers.

Now he craved the humanity of his mother, something that he would never be able to experience again.

Perhaps that was the explanation for his curiosity regarding James T. Kirk. If anyone ever requested that he selected a specimen to serve as the paragon of humanity, demonstrating the most human-like characteristics he could posit, he would have a difficult time selection anyone more suitable.

James Kirk had a vibrant personality. He was bright. Observing Kirk, after spending almost twenty years on a planet populated by only dark hair, dark eyes and pale skin; after joining Starfleet and encountering green skin, pink skin and hair of various shades, Spock could say with utmost certainty that James was the most vibrant creature he had ever encountered. His eyes were ethereal, his hair was golden, reminiscent of the molten legrandite crystals that were sometimes still found at the bottom of Earth’s Ocean and his personality was equally surreal. He found that beyond the few humans who were curious for the sake of boasting intelligence, or for the function of establishing interpersonal relationships, not many sought to widen their understanding of the many races inducted into the Federation, despite their dedication to Starfleet, the organization. The combination of this disdain for learning and the rampant xenophobia often resulted in very few persons being aware that Vulcans possessed touch telepathy.

He had an inkling that James was privy to this particular fact, because he made a considerable effort not to initiate any contact with his bare skin. Despite these attempts, there were a few scant, accidental touches, most noticeably on the bridge during their brief time operating together as a part of the senior bridge crew.

For a touch sensitive individual, touching someone like James Kirk was the equivalent of dropping a diabetic into a vat of molten sweets. It was intense, it was overwhelming, it was… potent.

The emotions that James Kirk had managed to evoke within Spock, since their very first interaction at the hearing versus their interactions as a command duo were frightening. He was not sure what the implication of his reaction to these interactions meant necessarily, but at the moment, he illogically accepted the unfamiliar emotions that, for some unfathomable reason, reminded him of his mother.

* * *

Kirk allowed himself five more minutes of restless wrangling with his sheets in an attempt to sleep, before giving up entirely.

“Alright! I’m going to check on Chris.” Kirk wasn’t sure if he was speaking to the darkness, or just aloud to himself, but he hadn’t expected a response from his first officer, who following his normal schedule, should be asleep.

“I will accompany you to ascertain the status of Christopher. We will need the information to complete our reports.”

Spock’s response had startled him off the couch and he rubbed absentminded at the spot on his hip where he’d connected with the ground. Now that he’d had a second to think about it, expecting anything resembling a normal sleep schedule from anyone currently residing on this ship was just shy of asking for a miracle.

He nodded and hauled himself up off the floor, smoothing out his rumpled shirt before pulling on his boots. He considered changing into his Command Gold, but decided that neutral black would have to do for now. Upon further inspection when they were out underneath the muted lights in the hallway, he realized that Spock had made a similar decision.

They didn’t expect to find anyone awake down at medbay, but they were pleasantly surprised to find Christine Chapel. She was not just awake; she was conducting rounds. Kirk felt a kinship with her in that moment. Determined to function as if unaffected, continuing to fulfil one’s designated purpose.

“Hey, Christine.” She probably sensed the hesitance in his voice, easily able to distinguish his wariness against disturbing her.

“Hello Captain, Commander. May I help you?” She was still holding a tricorder over her patient on the biobed, absently tapping at her PADD while she completed her assessment.

“Yeah, we were wondering if we could take a look at Pike? We wanted an update, just to see how he’s doing after… you know…” Christine obviously took pity on him, because she smiled gently at him, her eyes softening in what he assumed was genuine concern. She set down both her instruments, wheeling over to her desk to tap away at her computer.

“His readings say that he’s stable, but we have him in an induced coma while the medication works to under the damage to his cerebellum. You can visit him, but he won’t be up for any conversation.”

“That’s fine. It’s less of a Captain thing and more of a _reassurance that he’s alive_ kind of thing. We just want to see for ourselves that he’s okay.”

Christine glanced at Spock, almost expectantly.

“I too wish to ascertain if the Captain is functioning optimally.”

She looked at Spock for a few more seconds, almost long enough that Jim felt the need to clear his throat, before she looked away, gesturing with her left hand down the corridor.

“He’s in the first room on your left. Try to be quiet, okay?”

Jim nodded and gestured for Spock to go first, offering Christine an over exaggerated with before turning to follow him.

The last thing he heard before entering Pike’s room behind Spock was Christine’s laughter echoing throughout medbay.

* * *

Spock realized that since his first visit to settle the rescued Vulcans, he had yet to step foot in the medbay until this moment with James. The atmosphere carried with it an unnameable sensation. One that was entirely unfamiliar and thus, unwelcome. He tried to reign the feeling in, determined to ascertain for himself whether or not Christopher was recovering.

Visiting Christopher in the medbay was allowing for multiple opportunities to continue his observation of James.

James only allowed himself to lead when the resulting interactions could result in harmful repercussions. For something trivial, such as a casual visit within the ship, he was curiously content to allow someone else to take the lead. More importantly, he possessed confidence when staring down hostile aliens and attempting to rescue crewmen by tossing his body from a drilling platform, but began displaying mannerisms similar to that of a first year academy student when admitting his vulnerability through his concern for a comrade.

The more he interacted with Kirk, the more difficult the anomaly that he presented became to understand. His actions were inconsistent with typical human behaviour, and measuring him against his own Vulcan peers was a frivolously fruitless endeavour.

He decisively focused on Christopher for the duration of their visit, relegating his thoughts about Kirk to the recesses of his mind.

The Captain seemed to be stable, although his skin lacked the distinct colour that he was accustomed to associating with the older man. His hair was the same ash grey, peppered with black strands, although he appeared to be more frail than their last interaction two point four six days prior.

Overall, his assessment of Christopher Pike produced satisfactory results. He was not fully recovered, but all evidence suggested that his recovery was imminent and inevitable.

Thoughts of the Captain’s status brought his mind back to thoughts of Nero, which led him down the path towards thoughts about the remaining Vulcans. He had asked his father to clarify the status of their race during a previous discussion. He still had not received a satisfactory response.

The Admiralty was not the biggest fan of leniency. The death of a few billion people would call for subtlety, yes, but expectations still had to be met. They would still require their reports upon the successful docking of their vessel within approximately fifty-two point four three minutes. They would still expect the crew of the Enterprise to operate as if witnessing a massacre that would uproot an entire species was, to borrow a phrase from Lieutenant Uhura, _something that happened every other Tuesday._

* * *

James stopped on his way out of the medbay, satisfied with the work he’d managed to do while seated with Pike. The man hadn’t been awake, but his presence still offered some semblance of comfort, filling the familial gap that had been long abandoned by first, his mother and then, his brother.

He’d stopped because while visiting with Chris, Spock had deigned it his responsibility to check on the status of the other Vulcans who were still situated in the medbay. There were a few adults in biobeds, and Spock was corresponding with someone who appeared to be a Vulcan healer, something close to exhaustion barely veiled beneath his skin. That was surprising enough, what with the misconception constantly circulating that Vulcans did not feel, but what had caught Jim’s eye was the huddle of, well…it was really just a small pile of brown honestly. He wasn’t sure what it was if he was completely honest with himself.

He approached the pile cautiously and only when he saw a sock clad foot, _a small, sock clad foot,_ peeking out from the end of the pile closest to him, did he realize that this was a pile of children.

In the aftermath of it all, Kirk had honestly forgotten about the children. He knew that Vulcans weren’t born fully grown. Spock had obviously been a child once. Hardly any race had people who were born functioning like full-grown adults. He’d seen holograms of Vulcan children before. Statistically, he knew that with a population of 4 billion people, children had to have existed on the planet. With all of that, he’d somehow still forgotten.

Kirk had always had a soft spot for children. Maybe it was the result of his own experiences, his hope for no one to have to experience the devastation that he did as a child. Maybe he would have maintained this soft spot with a traditional family: not-dead father, not-traveling mother, not-a-runway brother. But what-if was a question he tried not to dwell on, because uncertainty about actions that were not his own would drive him to insanity. Instead, he focused on the situation directly before him: The pile of Vulcan children.

Children who appeared to be various ages were obviously drawing comfort from each other, while also reliving the nightmarish experience of their bonds, young and malleable, being destroyed. He wondered why there weren’t many adults offering similar support, but the idea of these children experiencing the emotional transference that would come with that kind of support, _from an adult_ , was enough to make him nauseous, reminding him of his own turbulent meld. Emotional Transference was something he had only experienced once, and the lightest word he could use to describe it was… trying. It was a trying experience. The younger ones supporting each other was probably the only logical conclusion, and if he could arrive at it, then he was sure the remaining adults had done so as well.

He allowed himself to slide down into a position on the floor, his back against the sturdy medbay walls, and pulled out his PADD. He was tempted to touch the pile, to offer his comfort, but he was unsure if his constantly emotionally compromised state was less turbulent than what they were transferring between each other. He’d had no bonds to break, but he was a human with no shielding capabilities, in addition to his past trauma. So he settled for offering support in the only way that he could to a gaggle of children bereft of their home and their families: through his presence. He had reports to complete, so it wasn’t like he had anywhere that he needed to be.

If a hand or two snaked out of the pile to latch onto the bare skin of his ankle or his wrist while he worked, because his projected emotions offered them comfort in the face of their new and unfamiliar despair, well, no one needed to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so lesson planning took over my life this weekend, so I'm just getting around to reposting this! Hope you guys like it! I'm going back to class.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Enterprise returns to Earth.

Docking brought with it the reality that Kirk had been trying to avoid thinking about.

_What was going to happen to him now that they were back at Starfleet Headquarters?_

The Kobayashi Maru, the unauthorized boarding of a Starship; there were so many regulations that he’d broken over the past few weeks.

Spock would probably be able to list them all.

He was trying his hardest not to think about his Vulcan First Officer. When they’d first docked, Sulu and Chekov had spent the better part of twenty minutes coming up with a strategy to completely distract the Media Circus on Earth, in an effort to allow the remaining Vulcans to disembark from the ship with as little fanfare as possible.

Complete control of their emotions or not, no one would choose to be bombarded with questions after losing over 90% of their population.

The plan had worked for all of five minutes. Honestly it was a valiant effort, but insensitive reporters on the hunt for a story were a different breed. He remembers being the Kelvin Baby, people shoving cameras in his face as a toddler, as a teenager and even as an adult. They hadn’t stopped until they realized that he was on the opposite end of the spectrum when compared to his father, a complete screw up. Documenting the hero’s son getting blackout drunk and starting fights in the middle of bars had gotten old after the first half-dozen times.

Kirk had gotten into one fight already, trying to keep the reporters away from the kids, who for some reason, had gravitated towards him on their way out of the Enterprise. T’Maha, one of the Vulcans on board had explained to him that because of the overarching turmoil being experienced by most Vulcans, he was one of the more calming presences on the ship. Apparently he was even calmer than most of the remaining crew, which she’d attributed to their inexperience.

_“You have experienced much devastation, young Kirk. You are accustomed to compartmentalizing emotions, disallowing them from disrupting your responsibilities and obligations to others. They have not had the opportunity to experience same.”_

Her words had brought him back to reality. They hadn’t even graduated yet, and wasn’t that something. Sometimes he forgot that not everyone’s life was steeped in tragedy. Many of the cadets at Starfleet Academy, his colleagues included, had experienced nothing more than a dead relative or neighbour in their entire lifetime. They came to Starfleet with visions of grandeur, not because they were out of options. They’d probably never even committed a simple, petty crime, let alone witnessed a murder.

Suddenly, the idea that he was one of the more stable officers aboard the Enterprise after such a tragedy was making a lot more sense.

He felt a small hand squeeze against his thigh, which prompted him to continue moving through the crowd. He hadn’t even realized that he’d stopped. His landing party was small, comprised of only seven children. The older ones had settled and abandoned him for their Vulcan counterparts, but the younger ones, save for the babies, who were being tended to by their elders, had opted to stay with Jim. One of them in particular had latched onto him like her life depended on it, and it probably did. She was the only one who was willing to come in contact with his bare skin, and she had completely scandalized a Vulcan elder earlier by holding his hand in public. A completely different connotation for children, a vastly different connotation for humans, but the elder had almost gone into apoplectic shock.

Jim had disregarded him entirely, however, and was still holding little T’Rya’s hand, even now. She was four point two three standard years old, her words, not his, and she’d spent the remaining hours that they’d had on the Enterprise holding onto him as he completed his duties. Her name meant _resolute lady_ , which was entirely too appropriate for the unwavering attachment she’d had to him for the past five hours.

He only allowed himself to breathe when they’d managed to escort the Vulcans out of the open and into the Administrative Center, directing them down the hallway and away from the open bay windows. He squeezed T’Rya’s hand before letting her go, something she tried fruitlessly to stop. He settled her with the other children, before glancing around for the rest of the Enterprise crew. He understood why she’d become attached to him, but he didn’t believe that he was the best influence for any child, let alone a Vulcan one. She needed to seek comfort from the others and he needed to find Spock.

* * *

Spock was indifferent upon his official arrival on Earth soil. They had occupied a significant portion of the airspace since the attack, so he expected that their arrival upon the planet’s surface would provide miniscule changes. Prior to this experience, he estimates that he had been proven false in his assumptions only seven times.

_When he was younger, based on the teachings of Surak, Spock had always accepted that violence was only demonstrated by brutes. Those who believed physical stimulation was a meaningful manner of displaying their superiority. He had held to his belief that intellect was far superior to physical dominion, his father supporting and nurturing those beliefs as he aged. This ideology had been shattered when the other students at the Vulcan Learning Center made the decision to disrespect his mother using derogatory Earth language._

_He was ashamed to admit that he lashed out in anger, but he was not ashamed to have defended his mother. Illogical or not._

Fighting could be logical, if done with appropriate motivations.

_Before he had made his attempt to complete kahs-wan, his adopted sister, Michael, would accompany him to and from school every morning and afternoon. She was the least threatening member of his family, and he had always considered her to be ‘soft’. After being confronted about her for the thirty-third time by his peers, he abandoned his traditional waiting point in the afternoon, and undertook the journey home in solitude. He repeated his actions the following day with his journey to school, and his sister had shown up to the Learning Center to confront him. She was only exposed to the Learning Center for approximately eleven point two minutes, had been in the presence of his classmates for even less time, and had only required two point four of those minutes to verbally eviscerate approximately seventy-four percent of the students in his cycle._

_He had stopped referring to her as adopted, subconsciously, in that very moment, and he never walked home without her following that incident._

His sister had the ability to be downright frightening if given significant motivation to do so.

_When his father had given him I-Chaya, directing him to look after the sehlat, he had been appreciative of the gesture, but ultimately uninterested. Sehlats were fascinating creatures, and he enjoyed the moments where he allowed himself to indulge in his research regarding them, but he had not asked for a companion. His mother had told him that he and I-Chaya would share a bond that could only be broken by death. He told her that she was illogical, as such a bond could not exist between fully sentient beings and the equivalent of a large house cat. I-Chaya accompanied him everywhere that was not the Vulcan Learning Center, so when he made the decision to undergo the kahs-wan approximately three years before his designated time, it was only logical that she accompany him._

_The kahs-wan, or Vulcan maturity test, was a traditional survival test of adulthood for adolescent Vulcans. The basis for the kahs-wan was to survive ten days without food, water, or weapons in Vulcan's Forge. Because of his torment at the hands of his peers, resulting from his mixed race, Spock sought to prove himself worthy by completing the maturity test at an earlier date. He desired to be accepted, proving once and for all that he was capable of being fully Vulcan._

_This proved to be a poorly conceived plan, because at approximately seven standard years old, Spock was ill prepared to tackle the challenges that lay in wait in the desert. He almost met his untimely death when he was attacked by a le-matya. I-Chaya had saved his life, attacking the poisonous creature in his defence. Unfortunately, her determination to see Spock survive resulted in her own untimely demise, from the le-matya’s poisonous claws._

Despite his initial apprehension, I-Chaya had been a loyal companion whose company had been preferred up until the premature end to his life cycle.

_Aligning himself with his more Vulcan half had seemed most appropriate in his youth. His mother was not easily offended by decisions that would serve as an affront to others, and it satisfied his father. Doing anything less than being truly Vulcan would thrill his mother, and disappoint his father. He remembers the aftermath of his altercation with his peers after they disrespected his mother. His father sought to embrace his son for being solely Vulcan, but was often disappointed by the reality of his actions. He questioned his father, sought answers, desperately trying to understand the expectation for him to be solely something he was not._

_Would it not be logical to strike a compromising balance between the two halves to his whole being?_

_He remembers the conversation that they had indulged in, before putting the matter behind them both._

_“You suggest that I should be completely Vulcan, and yet you married a Human.”_

_“As ambassador to Earth, it is my duty to observe and understand Human behaviour. Marrying your mother was logical. Spock, you are fully capable of deciding your own destiny. The question you face is: which path will you choose? This is something only you can decide.”_

_At the time, despite what had seemed like permission to forge his own path, satisfying his father had been his number one priority._

His father’s affection ran deep, but was simply overshadowed by his disappointment.

_“Speak your mind, Spock.” His father had been observing him in silence for the better part of two point four minutes._

_He was conflicted. “That would be unwise.”_

_“What is necessary is never unwise.” Vulcan prophecy often eschewed traditional Vulcan teachings. What is necessary is never unwise, yet emotions are meant to be sequestered into the deepest corners of the mind._

_“I am as conflicted as I once was as a child.”_

_“You will always be a child of two worlds. I am grateful for this. And for you.” Gratefulness was an emotion and yet his father experienced it. As a result of his existence._

_“I – I feel anger for the one who took mother's life. An anger I cannot control.” He worked hard to mask the emotion in his tone._

_“I believe, as she would say, do not try to. You asked me once why I married your mother. I married her because I loved her.”_

His mother’s value outshone his father’s desire to maintain propriety in the aftermath of Vulcan’s destruction.

_Lieutenant Uhura had proved to be the most intelligent linguistics’ student he had the pleasure of instructing throughout his tenure at Starfleet Academy. Her intelligence had been the most appealing thing about her at the time, her physical appearance a close second. She was conventionally attractive, with pleasant features. He had felt attraction to her initially based on her intellect, but the more opportunities that were provided for them to interact, the more he started to experience attraction to her in the typically conventional way. They had interacted intimately for approximately four point two months, her mind had been compatible with his, but they had both made the decision that a relationship at this point in their lives would colour the decisions that Uhura would possibly make as she attempted to further her career._

_They had remained friends afterwards, and regularly met up for lunch on Campus whenever both their schedules permitted it. They were having one of these lunches at a vegetarian bistro in San Francisco, when she let out a small huff of breath across from him._

_“I can’t believe the nerve of Kirk. Trying to cheat in the academy. I should have known you know? The first time I met him, he was drunk and tried to take on about six other cadets. Cocky doesn’t even begin to describe him.”_

_Spock was puzzled, because he was not certain how their conversation about low level language syntax similarities had diverted so suddenly, until he realized that her attention was now directed over his left shoulder._

_He spared a glance in the direction, catching only a glimpse of the Cadet as he rounded the corner._

_“He’s the epitome of arrogant. I don’t understand how Leonard can stand to be around him.”_

_Spock finished off his beverage, before setting down his glass beside his empty plate on the table. He had his misgivings about the young Cadet, but this was his first interaction with him. Perhaps Nyota could share some insight._

_“Have you interacted with him recently in a physical capacity?”_

_Her brows furrowed, a typical indication that she was uncertain. “Well, no. But I’ve heard a lot of things from my roommate. Plus, the two interactions we have had were unpleasant.”_

_He tilted his head in acceptance of her reasoning. The casual acceptance gave her renewed vigour, and she returned to her diatribe about the infamous James T. Kirk._

Lieutenant Uhura regarded people well, but her experiences could be overshadowed by her biases.

_“He’s always so selfish! He never thinks about anyone but himself!”_

_Accustomed to being on the receiving end of vocalizations regarding one Cadet Kirk, Spock was able to supress his innate desire to sigh, instead offering Nyota a crystal cup, filled with amber liquid._

_“Am I to assume that you experienced another unpleasant interaction with Cadet Kirk?”_

_She huffed out a breath that most people would associate with frustration, before swallowing a large mouthful her tea, completely disregarding the scalding temperature._

_He arched an eyebrow at the action and she just shrugged helplessly, her frustration obvious._

_“He was under my roommate’s bed Spock! That’s a complete breach of my privacy.”_

_Spock restrained himself from highlighting the fact that her roommate had to have allowed him to have access to the room, therefore her frustration should be directed at two persons, not one, but despite her typically logical character, Nyota was frightfully animated whenever Cadet Kirk was involved._

_Instead, he said, “Perhaps you should drink some more tea in an effort to calm yourself. I do not enjoy seeing you frustrated.”_

_She smiled at him, soft in a way that aligned with the affection that he knew she felt for him._

_“Thank you Spock. He’s just… incorrigible. All he thinks about is himself and his own satisfaction. I just wish he would grow up.”_

_He had ended his social engagement with Nyota shortly after, citing a meeting. His obligation, however, did not dissuade his thoughts from remaining pensive for the duration of the afternoon._

Nyota had been incorrect in her assessment. Based on his brief exposure to the Cadet during their mission, it was obvious that he was self-sacrificing to the extent that his own life often became forfeit.

For the eighth time, his assumptions were proven incorrect. To borrow a phrase from Uhura, the surface of the planet was ‘a circus’. Reporters spread throughout the expanse of the empty lot, reminiscent of sand particles. The officers under his and Kirk’s command worked admirably to disengage impromptu interviews and before long, they arrived at their destination. He surmised that it took the delegation 9.43 minutes to arrive at the Administrative Center. The Enterprise Crew had divided themselves into larger groups to journey to the Center, hoping that separation would be distraction enough for those wishing to profit by writing sensationalist literature on the Starfleet Network. His party was the second to arrive and he took the reprieve that the walls of the building provided as an opportunity to search for his Captain.

“Mr. Spock!”

Apparently he did not have to attempt much of a search, because Captain Kirk had sought him out first. He approached him, taking note of the absence of T’Rya, a small Vulcan child who had become almost a permanent fixture upon Kirk’s person during the team assignments.

“Yes Captain?” Spock was shocked at the conviction that he could hear distinctly in his own voice.

The man in question flinched as if reprimanded, his temporary title being the obvious cause for his discomfort.

“Acting Captain, Mr. Spock. Besides, we’re docked now. That title no longer belongs to me.”

Spock tilts his head in careful acquiescence, not interested in debating his choice of words at the moment. Regardless of what James Kirk wanted to believe, he was the Captain of the Enterprise currently. Spock was still emotionally compromised and Christopher Pike could not presently connect enough words to form a coherent sentence.

“Understood. I wish to ascertain why you wanted to converse with me?”

“Oh! Right, yeah, sorry. Spock, Admiral Marcus, Admiral Archer, Admiral Barnett and Admiral Komack requested to speak with us immediately.”

Spock stayed silent for a few moments, allowing himself to absorb the information before following Kirk to their assigned meeting area. He could hear the nervousness in his voice as he spoke, and most traditional markers of anxiousness manifested in his mannerisms. His hands were twisting behind his back and upon closer inspection, Spock observed that his brows were furrowed. Kirk displayed anxiousness about the need for so many members of the Admiralty to be in attendance at the meeting.

Spock, however, understood the significance.

Vulcan, a planet that played a momentous role in the preliminary development of the Federation as an entity, had just been destroyed. Starfleet, an entity that prides itself on defence, peacekeeping, and diplomacy, was unable to do more than assist in the retrieval of the remnants left behind from the planet’s destruction.

To borrow a colloquialism from human language, Vulcan’s destruction made Starfleet appear incompetent.

He did not voice this opinion, choosing instead to remain quiet beside Kirk, and despite his proficiency in language, found himself unable to discern the words that would alleviate the apprehension currently experienced by the other man.

* * *

Jim had assumed that after docking, things would settle down just a little bit. Turns out that Vulcan was a bigger deal than he thought it was, and the Federation’s inability to prevent the tragedy from taking place didn’t exactly scream, ‘PROTECT AND SERVE,’ to the inducted planets.

They arrive far too quickly at Admiral Marcus’ Office, interrupting the four gentlemen who looked like they were in the middle of a heated discussion.

“We can’t make a decision like this lightly. Inducted Federation Planets are requesting to discontinue partnerships because of what happened to Vulcan. We need a show of strength that would –” Komack’s tirade is interrupted by a hand on his shoulder, indicating towards the open doorway where he stood with Spock.

They had obviously meant for their words to go unheard, but Jim had heard enough.

“James! Spock! Come in, please. We were just discussing your latest mission.”

They made it sound like they’d come back with a signed diplomatic treaty instead of an endangered race.

Admiral Barnett stood to face them. “Let’s just cut to the chase gentlemen. Right now, the Federation needs to put forth a united front, so that our other inducted planets do not feel threatened as a result of your latest failure.”

Jim glances over at Spock and appreciates the fact that he is not the only one to tense at the implication of the _your_ in that statement.

Barnett continues, nonplussed. “I believe that the few high points of the mission, like the sacrifices made in the attempt to stop the drill on Vulcan, the rescue of the high Council and the destruction of the Romulan ship should all be celebrated and highlighted to reassure Federation planets that regardless of outcome or injury, we stand by our own. Which is why I believe that we should maintain Kirk’s field promotion. He displayed valour and dedication while working with his comrades, and managed to prevent the same tragedy from befalling Earth.”

Jim had gone momentarily deaf somewhere around the words _field_ and _promotion._ He wanted to ask about his trial, his hearing, the Kobiyashi Maru, the fact that he wasn’t even supposed to be on the Enterprise in the first place, but he was utterly flabbergasted.

_They want to give him the Enterprise._

“And I still say he’s not ready! He’s not even twenty-three years old! We throw him out there with the flagship and we lose every ounce of credibility that we’ve managed to scrape together over the last one thousand years!” Marcus’s grim nod showed that he agreed with Komack’s statement, and observing Archer’s position at Barnett’s shoulder made it clear which side he was on.

_Well, most of them do, at any rate._

It didn’t matter that they all didn’t agree though. He still felt giddy and lightheaded. They wanted him to take command of the Flagship, the best and brightest created by the Federation since the USS Yorktown.

_What the hell were Barnett and Archer smoking?_

They look like they wanted to throw themselves back into the argument, and the anticipation was killing him, but he didn’t have the mental wherewithal to deal with indecision right now and Spock was so rigid by his side that a small gust of wind would probably shatter him into a million pieces. They could do this tomorrow.

“Admiral, sir, I understand that this is a decision that obviously isn’t unanimous, and isn’t one that should be made lightly. Maybe we could reschedule our meeting for tomorrow afternoon?” His own voice sounded cracked and unsure, even to his own ears, and he winced.

“Is it that you have something more pressing to attend to? More pressing than the Federation’s Flagship and our reputation throughout the galaxy?”

The hesitance from before doesn’t linger, and he feels his nostrils flare, a careful attempt to release his frustration.

“Quite frankly, yes sir. There are Vulcan’s to settle and crewmembers to be assessed in Medical. More than half of my classmates are dead, and the ones that aren’t are devastated by the loss of life. Since it seems to me that the four of you haven’t exactly made up your minds about whether or not you actually want me to retain my field promotion, then we can reschedule until you come to a decision.”

Admiral Marcus fixes him with a hard stare, but Jim’s concern for his other responsibilities override his body’s decision to be nervous. “Pike always said you were one of our best and brightest. You should have heard him defend you. He's the one who talked you into joining Starfleet, wasn't he?”

The conversational segue throws him for a loop, but he responds, “Yes, sir.”

“We’ll deliberate and reconvene in twenty-four hours to let you know what we’re going to do with you, and how exactly we’re going to fix this entire mess. Dismissed.”

He doesn’t loiter, exiting the room with Spock, the anxiety that he’d felt upon their entrance into the room returning tenfold. He wasn’t good enough for the Enterprise, but Admirals Barnett and Archer seem to think a pretty, young face was what the Federation needed to maintain control.

Did he agree with them? _No, not really._

Did he like the fact that they were probably using him? _Hell no._

Did he want to take command of the USS Enterprise and show Christopher that his faith in him hadn’t been misplaced? _Yes, and yes._

Did he want to show Komack and Marcus that he wasn’t just some stupid kid with nepotistic tendencies? _Absolutely._

However, thinking about it wasn’t going to change the fact that he wouldn’t find out his fate until the following afternoon. All he could do now, was wait for the Admiralty to make their final decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the people who commented on the last chapter, the reason why I haven't replied is because I'm scared to even read them. 
> 
> I know, I know... I have no self-confidence.
> 
> https://blackgirlyoga.tumblr.com/ OH, I have a tumblr! I post there more than I post here.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the late post on this story, and the non-posts for the other two. They're finished, but I just... can't right now? Quarantine is really getting to me. I'm not used to such extended periods of isolation and it's taking me a while to adjust. I hardly get out of bed anymore and I've put on like 9 pounds.
> 
> I think I just really need people to talk with.   
> Anyways, I'm working on editing the other two chapters for the other stories but the motivation is just... not there. 
> 
> I'm trying though! Hope everyone else is doing well.

After his brief meeting with Admiralty, and a few hours spent debriefing the necessary personnel and filing reports, Jim had gone home to his unit in the dorms. He had entertained the idea of seeking out T’Rya, but her unabated attachment to him made him hesitate. He wanted to assist with her recovery, but he also wanted her to be able to reintegrate with her race once they left Earth.

One quick shower and two replicated chocolate muffins later, he was passed out in his room. He’d only managed to get four hours of rest however, because he never really quite noticed how much he relied on ambient sounds to fall asleep. Shuffling paperwork, chairs scraping across tiled floors, jingling keys as people entered their rooms, all of it usually served as the background noise that soothed him while he slept.

Now the dorms were eerily quiet. Approximately 70 percent of his class of cadets had lost their lives during Nero’s attack on Vulcan and it was painfully obvious that they were no longer around. He lasted another three hours in the dorm before abandoning the idea of sleep completely. He left his apartment to go for a walk. He thought about his meeting with the higher ups, and supressed a sigh. Before joining Starfleet, he never really had any direction. Before Tarsus, he thought he might have wanted to be a Pilot or an Engineer. After Tarsus, he just wanted to stop feeling _everything._ Now, after joining Starfleet, after getting a taste of what exactly it was that could be accomplished with a good, well-rounded, determined crew, Jim knew that there wasn’t anything else that he wanted out of life. He wanted to lead. He wanted to work together with people who he trusted implicitly to watch his back, to protect him. He wanted to make a difference.

_He never wanted another Vulcan to happen again._

He hadn’t expected to second guess himself quite so much after settling in after the mission. He usually liked to pretend he was unflappable. Confident, cocky James T. Kirk was the façade that most people were familiar with. But all the insecurities had come rushing to the forefront of his mind after the mission.

_As a Captain, temporary or not, you start to micromanage every single thought, action and interaction, determined to figure out if there was something different you could have done to minimize the casualties._

That’s where Jim was currently, and the anticipation for the meeting with the Admirals wasn’t helping with his overwhelming thoughts.

_If he hadn’t been on academic suspension, Bones wouldn’t have had to almost poison him to get him on board, and maybe he would have been able to relay his theories about the attack sooner._

_If they’d destroyed the drill earlier, Nero wouldn’t have been able to launch the red matter._

_Maybe if he had accompanied Spock down to the surface of the planet, he could have helped save more people, like his mother._

He was second guessing every thought and decision he’d made between his hearing and his shower a few hours ago, and it was driving him insane. He thought about the ship, Captain Pike’s ship, _his_ ship, and tried to settle his thoughts.

The Enterprise was grounded for four months. Cracks in the hull plating and a detonated warp core, do not a fully functioning ship make. Four months of grieving, four months of self-imposed distractions, four months to improve himself to the point where even he would be proud to serve on a ship with himself.

_What exactly was he going to do for four months?_

* * *

“Bones! Bones, Boneo!”

Leonard shifted his comm to his other ear, using his shoulder to hold it in place while he punched a series of numbers into the replicator.

“What is it kid?” Leonard had been on shift for the last seventeen hours, counting his time on the Enterprise and his recruitment at the hospital almost immediately after they landed, and was finally getting something to eat before going home.

“I… well, are you busy? Because you sound busy…”

Bones sighed internally, taking his bagel and making his way outside, dropping down onto one of the benches outside Starfleet Medical.

“I’m not busy kid, just tired. What’s up? Where you been? Have you eaten?” He always felt like an overbearing parent whenever he interacted with Jim. For the most part, the kid could take care of himself, but when it came to food, he either didn’t eat at all because he wasn’t _really hungry_ or he overate and then wallowed in guilt afterwards.

There was an affronted huff from the other side of the comm, when Jim answered. “Yes _Dad._ I had two chocolate chip muffins and a cup of hot cocoa. I also took a shower and tried to take a nap. Didn’t work out so well.”

Leonard sighed softly around his mouthful of bagel. “Damn it Jim, you need to sleep.”

“I know! I know… it’s just, the dorms are really empty, so it’s too quiet. I hadn’t realized that I depended so much on the noise…”

All of the fight evaporated out of his body at Jim’s response. He hadn’t forgotten per se, but will all the hassle at the hospital concerning the traumatized Vulcans, plus the fact that he hadn’t set foot in his apartment since they docked, he hadn’t been able to actually sit down and think about the ramifications from their previous mission.

_Almost all of the cadets in his year were dead. He’d served as a CMO before he’d even graduated._

If his mouth wasn’t full he would have probably laughed, he was so shocked.

“Sorry Jim. I was so distracted it just kind of slipped my mind. I would have come to stay with you.”

“It’s okay. I’ve been trying not to think too hard about it. But that wasn’t why I called you. Amidst all this shit, I actually have good news! Well, its honestly more terrifying than it is good, but still!”

He brushed the crumbs from his coat, tossing the thermal coffee cup in the recyclables bin beside the bench, before standing. “Spit it out Jim! Do I have to drug anybody this time or are we safe?”

Warm laughter filtered in through the speakers, and Leonard relaxed, satisfied. A melancholy Jim was the worst state for Jim to be in. Melancholy always led to depression.

“They gave me the Enterprise.”

“To place in your model space ship collection. There, finished that sentence for you.”

He always fell back on sarcasm when he was confused. Or puzzled. Or flabbergasted. Also, he could _hear_ Jim smiling over the phone.

“No Bones. They gave me the ship. The real one. I know it’s probably for publicity or something else utterly inane, but I don’t care. I got it! They voted and I got it!”

“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait. Who’s they? They’re really giving you the flagship?”

“Yes! They are the Admirals. They were arguing about it yesterday, but the few people who disagreed with the idea of me taking command were outvoted.”

“You sound excited?”

There was silence on the other end of the line for a beat before Jim responded. “You don’t?”

He pushed his hand that wasn’t holding the comm into his coat pocket, allowing his feet to wander while they talked.

“I’m not unhappy about it. I just… I was actually thinking about settling down out here for a while. Being on a starship with you wasn’t as desolate as I thought it was going to be, contrary to popular belief, but if I stay grounded at Starfleet Medical, then I would have so many more opportunities to see Joana. I don’t want to leave my family behind, but I also don’t want Joana to forget about me because I’m gone for months or even years at a time Jim.”

He was silent for a moment, before adding.

“I don’t want Jocelyn to take her away from me completely Jim, and she’s been fighting hard to do that ever since the divorce.”

Jim was quiet, and for a moment Leonard thought the call had disconnected. The only sign that Jim was still there being the shallow breathing that he could hear on the other end of the line. He opened his mouth to ask Jim if he was okay, but was cut off mid inhale.

“I get it Bones. I’ve never really had that kind of longing to be with any member of my family, not since I was a child anyways, but I do understand. I’m still going to put in my request for you when I’m drafting the roster for my crew, but… I completely understand if you decline the request.”

“Jim…”

“It’s okay Bones. We’ll figure something out. I’ll figure something out. I promise.”

He didn’t wait for a response before he hung up, and Leonard was left standing there, wondering when exactly he’d started thinking of the crew of the Enterprise as his family.

Or maybe it was just Jim.

It was always Jim.

* * *

“Hey! Hey, Spock! Commander!”

With his hands clasped firmly behind his back, he turned to face the Cadet whose voice he had become inordinately familiar with over the course of the last few weeks.

He was running down the slope to the left of the shipyard, and instead of taking the last flight of stairs down to Spock’s level, he vaulted the railing.

_Always seeking danger, rarely taking the guarded route._

He did not allow even one moment to pass after landing before he started speaking.

“I wanted to tell you this in person, but I don’t have a comm number for you so I was running all over campus and then I bumped into Uhura and she told me that I could probably find you in the shipyard and here you are!”

The influx of information was not uncommon, most cadets spoke to him in this manner, especially if they were in haste, but he had not expected to see Cadet Kirk today at all.

They had not spoken since the briefing with the Admiralty, and his time since then had been occupied with meditation and interactions with the other survivors of his race.

He could not remember the last time he had eaten.

“You have information to share with me, Cadet?”

It seemed impossible, but Jim’s smile became even wider and Spock felt himself warm. His jovial nature was contagious and he found himself fascinated once more by the whirlwind cadet.

“That’s just what I had to talk to you about! It’s actually not cadet? They’re allowing all of the cadets who served on the mission to graduate!”

“Congratulations, James. What rank were you assigned upon receiving this news?”

If a human being had ever looked capable of bursting just through sheer emotion alone, James Tiberius Kirk currently fit that criteria.

“They gave me the flagship Spock. I’m Captain of the Enterprise.”

In his distraction, he had completely forgotten about their meeting yesterday, more engaged in the discussions and deliberations of the council members who were trying to re-establish some semblance of order within the remaining members of his race.

The offer that had been made by the Admiralty had been low of his list of facts that were current relevant to his continued existence.

“I… I am pleased that you are grateful for such an outcome.”

“But you’re not pleased about the outcome itself? I thought you would be happy about it? I mean I know we got off to a rough start, but we ended up working really well together. I was… well…”

He could understand why that was what James interpreted from his statement, but the hesitance lay with his own perceived capabilities, not with James and he told him this.

“My lacklustre response is no fault of yours James. My hesitance is solely based on my own thoughts and experiences currently. You also did not finish your statement. You were what?”

The bursting, bright, light-hearted being that had been standing before him had deflated during their exchange of dialogue and was suddenly replaced by a shy, more reserved caricature.

“I was thinking of submitting your name to the Admiralty? I’m supposed to put in requests for my crew, and we worked so well together that I was going to request you as my first officer. Unless you have someone else that you’d prefer to serve with. I know how much you looked forward to serving under Chris.”

He could not explain where the sudden warmth he was feeling originated from, and it was something that he would be required to meditate about after this interaction.

“I do not know what to say. Even after my attempt to…” He left the statement open, unable to bring himself to complete it.

_Even after my attempted strangulation, you would still trust me to serve with you._

“I know what you’re going to say and yes. Definitely yes. We already spoke about this. We both did things that we needed to apologize for and we did. I know I can’t trust you to always believe the things that I say, heck even I don’t always believe the things that come out of my mouth, but I can certainly trust you to protect my crew.”

He was shocked, not that it was evident on his face. “Your words are appreciated James, even though they are unexpected, but at this moment, I cannot accept your offer.”

Shyness was replaced by confusion.

“Wait, hold on, you can’t? Why not?”

If he had been anyone else, he would have sighed. Because he was Spock, and fully Vulcan, he simply quirked an eyebrow. “In the face of extinction, it is only logical I resign my Starfleet commission and help rebuild my race.”

“Hold up!” James reached out to squeeze his bicep, and Spock could feel his warmth through the fabric. “You’re leaving Starfleet?”

He nodded, still hyperaware of the heat against his arm. “The remaining Vulcans need to locate a suitable planet on which to establish a Vulcan colony. It is my responsibility as one of the surviving adults to assist with this endeavour.”

“But you’re the best First Officer in the fleet! At least that’s what Pike is always saying.”

Confusion was now warring with shyness, frustration and guilt.

“I recognize your concerns, but I must reflect before I am able to give you a satisfactory response. For this I apologize.”

Jim tried not to let the disappointment he was feeling show on his face. Obviously he was unsuccessful, because he could see the small shift of features on Spock’s face, as if he was making an aborted attempt to offer… comfort? He wasn’t sure.

“I trust that you understand that my inability to come to a conclusion does not reflect judgement on you as a person. Or as a Captain.”

He did not understand where the sudden need to reassure this other man was coming from and he had no time to discern his actions at the moment. “I understand.” His eyebrows furrowed, the crease in his forehead deepening slightly. “Spock, does Uhura know about this?”

“No, she does not, and I trust you will allow me to determine when it would be suitable to let her know the information that I have just shared with you?”

“Yeah, yeah… Sure. You take all the time you need Spock. You deserve it.”

* * *

The lights were warm on his shoulders and neck and he could feel the stares of the remaining cadets and the members of the admiralty on his person.

He knew that a lot of them didn’t believe that he deserved this. Hell, he still sometimes didn’t believe that any of this was real. He was so caught up in the endless cycle of self-doubt that he startled visibly when Admiral Barnett began to speak.

“This assembly calls Captain James Tiberius Kirk. Your inspirational valour and supreme dedication to your comrades is in keeping with the highest traditions of service, and to reflect utmost credit to yourself, your crew, and the Federation, it is my honour to award you with this commendation. By Starfleet Order two-eight four five five, you are hereby directed to report to Admiral Pike, USS Enterprise, for duty as his relief.”

His legs were as heavy as led, but somehow he was able to make his stride over to Admiral Pike appear flawless. It was different, looking down at the man who had once looked down at him, a bloodied mess on the floor of a bar in Iowa, before deciding to scrape him off of the floor and support him.

“I relieve you, sir.”

Pike smiled at him, an expression that would normally bring him some measure of comfort if he wasn’t so anxious. “I am relieved.”

He let out a huff of breath, the lines across his shoulders relaxing marginally, a faint flush creeping up the sides of his neck when Pike started laughing at him. “Thank you, sir.”

“Congratulations, Captain. Your father would be proud.”

The applause was thunderous and he felt his heart swell with something unfamiliar, something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel often since his childhood.

Hope.

* * *

It didn’t take long for the crowd to scatter after the assembly, and after waving goodbye to Pike and Number One, who had come to witness the proceedings, he entertained the idea of going to see T’Rya.

He wanted to see her, had wanted to see her since he’d left her with the other members of her race yesterday.

But he knew he was getting attached.

The last time he’d rescued kids, he’d had them ripped right out of his life in the aftermath, and he didn’t think he could cope with another situation like that again, even at his age.

He saw Kevin every once in a while around the academy, but after approaching him a few times, he’d realized something: Kevin hardly remembered anything that had happened on Tarsus. He had been very young, and had blocked out most of the trauma.

Trying to interact with someone based on shared trauma that they weren’t even fully aware of was draining, so he’d taken to avoiding him, and he had never seen any of the other kids again.

He didn’t want to repeat the situation again with T’Rya. His ship was grounded for another four months, and the majority of the Vulcans would be stuck here while delegations sought to find a suitable planet on which to establish a colony. That left him plenty of time to visit, become attached and become despondent whenever the inevitable separation would take place.

He thought about big brown eyes, solemn and shiny as the devastating emotional upheaval warred with the logical compulsion to remain composed regardless of the circumstances.

If he could remove some of that devastation, didn’t he own it to T’Rya to try?

After all, what would life be without a little risk?


End file.
